


Skinny Love

by TheElvesAlwaysStealTheShow



Category: The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Post-Apocalypse, Survival, Walkers, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombies, bethyl, the walking dead - Freeform, twd
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-24 21:50:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3785512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheElvesAlwaysStealTheShow/pseuds/TheElvesAlwaysStealTheShow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This follows Beth and Daryl, in the event that she wasn't taken away by the black car with the white cross. They've traveled for days, and happened upon a small farm town that is seemingly deserted. Beth is still suffering from a sprained ankle; Daryl is exhausted from lack of sleep and carrying Beth, as her ankle can't hold much weight. With each day that passes, the two of them hope that they will find a place that truly feels safe. Until then, they have to rely on one another to get them through another day, another challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skinny Love

 

" _Take my hand, I'll help you stand._  
_Walk behind me, I'll take the lead._  
_I can't promise you safety, but I'll give you my all._  
_I'll be the shadow that follows you wherever you are._ "

   **Night had fallen several hours ago, but Beth couldn't get to sleep.** Her ankle was throbbing; her mind running rampant with unanswered questions. Each night she wondered where the rest of their party was; if any of them were still alive. She had lost track of how many days had passed since they lost the prison and lost each other in the process. The days were hard, but seemed even harder now, with so many loose ends.  
   Daryl was gone from the room, which made her nervous. Of course, he could handle himself, but if something did happen out there, she wouldn't know it. The little [farmhouse](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/40/9c/7e/409c7ead90162a64d6711eee40a18885.jpg) they had found, was surrounded by five other small houses, and only a small amount of walkers had surfaced since they had arrived. Daryl had been patrolling the grounds each night, and Beth knew he had been running on fumes for too long.  
   Tossing her blankets aside, Beth stood on her good ankle and hopped the short distance to the door. Though she tried to be as quiet as she could, the old, wooden door creaked loudly. Cringing, she got it open far enough to stick her head out and look down the hall. Everything was black, and nothing made a sound but the door. Her eyes couldn't make out any movement, in either direction, so she opened the door a little wider. Using the door frame as a brace she made her way into the hall, and hopped toward the back of the house, where the [kitchen](http://media.smithsonianmag.com/images/20120630-kitchen-abandoned-963.jpg) was. Beth's breathing was heavy, brought on by fear and by the physical excretion of having to hop everywhere. Though the window, in the kitchen was boarded shut, she was able to get a couple fingers between the boards to pull aside the blinds.  
   Everything was so dark; there was no light than that coming from the moon. As her eyes darted around for something that looked familiar, she heard the creaking of wooden boards behind her. Breathlessly, she turned toward the sound and froze.  
   "What are you doing?" said Daryl, with a tinge of annoyance in his tone.  
   "I was looking for you." Beth brushed some hair behind her ear and breathed a sigh of relief.  
   "I don't need you lookin' for me. I need you to stay put."  
   "I'm sorry." She could tell he was mad at her. A lot of the time Daryl seemed to be pissed off at her, and no matter what she did, she couldn't make the situation better.  
   "C'mere, I'll take you back," he said, shortening the distance between the two of them.  
   "I'm fine. I can do it myself." She brushes off his hand on her arm and slowly works her way around the room, but Daryl cuts her off.  
   "You're going to make your ankle worse." His grip on her becomes stronger and she flinches.  
   "Leave me alone!"  
   "Watch your mouth! You really want to try and fight off walkers with one leg, hm?"  
   Beth looked down at the floor, though she can't make out much of it. She didn't resit when she was hoisted into his arms and taken back to the [bedroom](http://www.proj3ctm4yh3m.com/urbex/wp-content/uploads/2013/12/SewingHouse-5.jpg). All she wanted was the two of them to get along and stop the constant fighting. However, it was easier said than done, as she was finding out. Daryl's emotional wall is almost impenetrable, and at times the verbal abuse is almost too much for her to take as she tried to work her way in.  
   No sooner had she laid back down on the bed, Daryl exited the room.  
   "Where are you going?" She asked.  
   He didn't answer.  
   "Daryl! You _need_ to get some rest! It's been days since you've slept anything more than an hour."  
   Daryl walked away as soon as she stopped talking. He didn't even bother telling her to keep her voice down. Beth, after realizing that he blew her off, rolled over on her side, and faced the wall. Odd as it was, she was able to slip into sleep rather easily after that.

X X X X X

   When she awoke, Beth had trouble identifying who/or what was sharing the bed with her. It was Daryl; his back was to her, facing the door. The bed was a full, nothing cramped, but Beth felt now, that any move she made would disturb him as it creaked with the slightest movement. She smiled softly, taking a lock of his hair between her fingers. Though they had had their blow-ups, they always seemed to gravitate toward one another within a few hours of time apart.   
   She was grateful for him, always seeming to bail her out of some big messes. Beth still felt like she hadn't done anything to prove to him that she wasn't just dead weight. Beth had an idea of how she looked to Daryl, and she wasn't happy with it. She wanted to be like her sister: tough, self-sufficient and able to hold her own. Right now, with her ankle in the shape that it was in, Beth felt like some troublesome burden.   
   As the two of them laid there, silent and motionless, the sounds of birds chirping lofted into the room. It almost felt, in that brief instance, that the world was back to normal. The one window in that room was boarded shut, only tiny streams of light filtered through. Beth sighed, still rolling Daryl's hair around in her fingers. He shifted slightly, but remained in the same position. With a couple quick scoots, Beth nestled up against his back which awoke him.   
   "What are you doing?" Daryl asked.  
   "Nothing."  
   "Sure doesn't seem like nothin'," he replied.   
   Beth backed off of him, as it didn't take much of a hint to get the point across. She didn't apologize, but turned back toward the wall. She really wanted to break that wall down again and see what lived underneath all that attitude. She had done it a couple times before, but she knew there was still mysteries to be unraveled.   
   Not long after she had rolled back over did Daryl leave the bed altogether. Beth heard the door open, and he was gone. Flopping over on her back, she looked at the ceiling, with a confused expression. She was tired of laying around, doing nothing day in and day out. Her ankle wasn't broken; she wasn't completely immobile. With that, she placed both feet on the ground, with a twinge of pain visible on her face, and shuffled toward the bathroom.   
   Inside one of the drawers were two Ace bandages which she wrapped her ankle with, the way that her father had showed her. The pressure was oddly comforting and once her foot was back inside her boot, walking was actually somewhat manageable. She was walking at a slow pace, but it was far better than hopping. However, Beth was unsure if she should leave the house, or get even more on Daryl's bad side and see what she could get into. She opted to go sit on the front porch; fresh air would probably do her mind some good.

X X X X X

   Daryl sat on the back steps, just off the kitchen, and was looking out at the properties around them. There were two houses to the left and three to the right. With no walkers in sight he rose to his feet, took up his crossbow and began trekking through the waist-tall grasses toward the first house on the left. Halfway between the two, he stopped and looked over his shoulder. He though he felt the feeling of eyes upon him, and he was correct. Beth was sitting on the front porch, and had been watching him before he turned around. With a furrowed brow, Daryl started back toward Beth. He didn't want her thinking that he had just up and left.   
   "I'm going to go see what I can find." Daryl said, motioning toward the house in question.   
   "Do you want me to go, too?"  
   "No, stay here. If I have to bolt out of there for any reason, I don't want to take the chance that you'll be too far from me."  
   Her eyes dropped, and she didn't contest the order. He had a point, but she wanted to try and do something for him.   
   "Just be careful, please."  
   "Mhm," Daryl said, lingering for a moment before heading off in the direction that he had came from. As he left, Beth got on her feet and went inside the house. They hadn't been there but a couple days, and it was still in quite a disarray. If he was going to be out gather supplies that could be found, then they would need a place to put them. She started in the kitchen, the worst room in the house. Old dishes and food tins littered the counters and the table. After finding some garbage bags under the sink, she went about clearing away the trash. Two bags later, everything was out of the way and sitting on the back porch. Her next thing was to get all of the dishes cleaned, and thankfully, the water still ran clear and there was soap by the sink.  
   It reminded her of when she first met Daryl and his group of people. Cooking dinner for everyone, even when her father was apprehensive. She longed for her old farm house. The horses and the feelings of comfort that place held. But it was lost now. She knew, in her heart, that she'd never see that place again. It was probably for the best.

X X X X X

   Knocking on the door, Daryl waited for any signs of an inhabitant inside the house. When enough time had passed, he entered slowly, crossbow at the ready. With each room he cleared, he made a quick mental note of usable things around him. The single-level home held no walkers, and no recent signs of anyone living inside. Finding a backpack in a closet, he went about filling it.   
   In the living room, he found some plain, white emergency candles and some matches; the bedrooms held some nicer blankets. The bathroom had some soaps and shampoo, but no medical items; the kitchen had a couple cans of soup, but it was the cellar that was most promising. On the shelves were canned peaches, green beans, homemade stews and other assorted foods. Those jars he had to put in a bushel basket and carry very carefully. Other than that, the house was full of trash and broken items that had been looked over once before.  
   Once back outside, Daryl looked back to the house, expecting to see Beth still on the steps, but she wasn't there. As quietly as he could, he made the walk back, a treasure trove of items in tow. Through the front door he could hear her humming. The basket was beginning to get heavy as he walked toward the back of the house. As he stood in the hallway, Daryl noticed the room had been cleaned up a lot. No longer was there trash strewn everywhere, or dirty dishes all over the counters. In their place was a clean table, an empty sink and the smell of lemons were in the air. He shifted the weight of the backpack and caused the glass jars to clink, startling Beth.  
   "Daryl! Don't sneak up on me like that!" She gave him a disapproving look before seeing all that he was carrying. "Oh, wow! What all did you find?!" Beth took the heavy basket from him, placed it on the empty kitchen table and began to unpack it.  
   "There's so much here! The seals are still intact! This is awesome!" She looked at him, beaming. Daryl smiles back weakly. "Thank you."  
   "There is some soap and other stuff in here," Daryl says, placing the backpack in a vacant dining chair. "Found these blankets, too." He pulled two blankets from over his shoulder to her. Beth looked like a child holding those blankets, smiling like they were the greatest thing ever. He smirked.  
   "Thank you for this, Daryl, really."  
   "You're welcome." He nodded, and went to leave the kitchen. "It looks nice." He said, over his shoulder. Beth just smiled, still holding onto the blankets.

X X X X X

   Once the food was all put away in the cabinets, the soap and shampoo arranged in the bathroom, Beth limped to the bedroom to straighten it up next. She had spent a couple hours too many on her ankle already, but there was still more to be done. The bedroom wasn't as bad as the kitchen, but it was still a ravaged mess. With bags in hand, she stuffed discarded items and dirty clothes into them. Working up a sweat, Beth sat down on the floor, her back against the bed. Soon after, Daryl stood in the doorway.  
   "Do you want some help?"  
   "I think I've about got it, thanks."  
   He walked over to the two bags she had tied up, and took them away. Beth smiled at him and went back to grabbing the last few things under the bed. Of those things, was an old Bible. She brushed the dust off the cover and thumbed through the pages. Inside were old family photos, pressed flowers and even a couple four-leafed clovers. She smiled, rose to her feet, and placed it upon the desk. She left the book open to the page with the clovers. The room looked much better now, and she decided she would wash the bed covers tomorrow.  
   Slowly, she drug the last bag of trash toward the kitchen, but Daryl took it from her before she got that far.  
   "Thank you," she said, fixing her shirt. She followed him to the kitchen and decided it was time for them to eat something. "Which would you rather have, vegetable soup or dumplings?"  
   Daryl raised an eyebrow at Beth. It was obvious he didn't care, when he closed the door behind him. She just rolled her eyes and took the jar of vegetable soup from the shelf. They'd have to eat it cold, but it was better than nothing. After washing her hands, Beth poured two equal bowls of soup and set them at the table. She wondered where Daryl had gone off to, as he should have been back already. Just before she was going to go looking, the back door opened. There he stood with flowers in hand.  
   "Where did you find those?" Beth smiled.  
   "They were against the house. I thought you would like them. Might make this place--"  
   "Feel more like a home?" She said, finishing his sentence.  
   Daryl nodded and filled up a glass with water, and placed the flowers on the table.  
   "They're beautiful," said Beth. "I never thought I'd get to enjoy flowers again."  
   Daryl took his seat beside her, and looked down at the soup. "You sure this is okay?"  
   "Yes," she laughed. "The seal popped, so it's fine. If you don't want to eat this, go find yourself a squirrel." She playfully pushed his arm which caused a tiny smile to grace his lips.   
   They ate in relative silence, the only sound breaking the silence, was the gentle clinking of their spoons hitting the bottoms of their empty bowls. Beth looked over at Daryl who had finished before her.   
   "I can open another jar if you're still hungry," she said, hobbling to the sink.  
   "We need to make that last as long as we can. I'll be alright." Daryl walked up behind her, and placed his bowl in the empty sink. Their eyes made brief contact, but the moment seemed to linger on forever. Daryl turned away, leaving Beth alone in the kitchen. She was smiling. It was little moments between the two of them that reassured her that things might just be okay. Most people might not have seen anything special in what had just happened, but she did.    
   That moment of bliss didn't last long.   
   From outside, the moans a groans of walkers could be heard. Beth froze, gripping the rim of the sink with both hands. Her heartbeat thumped loudly in her chest; she swore she could hear the throbbing of her ankle just as loudly.   
    _Daryl!_ She thought. Where was he? She knew she didn't need to worry and mother over him, but she cared about him, and it worried her when things like this arose. Plus, she wasn't in a good condition to fend for herself,  _if_ something bad should happen to him. She quickly dried off her hands, drew her knife from inside her boot and shuffled toward the front of their farmhouse. When she got to the front door, she could hear Daryl outside, taking one down after another. Beth knew that she couldn't linger behind the door like a scared little girl; she needed to be out there, helping him. With no more delay, she swung open the door and stepped out onto the porch. Only two walkers remained while several laid lifeless on the ground around the house. The furthest walker, Daryl took down with his crossbow, while the closer one met it's fate by the edge of a knife.  
   He turned around, and saw Beth, her knife at the ready, by the front door.  
   "Get back inside!"  
   "Daryl!" she shouted at him with disapproval.   
   "Now!" His eyes narrowed.   
   "I can help you!"  
   Daryl said nothing, but made his way to the porch, took her by the arm and pushed her back inside. "Stay."  
   "I ain't no dog, Daryl!" Beth said, pulling her arm from his grasp.  
   "You're gonna be a dead one if you don't listen." And with that, Daryl left her with tears welling in her eyes. 

X X X X X

   It wasn't long after their blow up, that Daryl came back into the house, bloody and still rather angry. Beth had retreated into the bedroom, laying on the bed, and facing the wall. She was trying to silence her crying, but her sniffling was still very constant. All she could think about was what Daryl had said to her. Did he not realize how much he hurt her when said those things? No...no he didn't. He was Daryl not some well-mannered gentleman.   
   There was a knock at the door, but Beth said nothing. She just drew up a blanket close to her face.   
   Again, the  _rap, rap, rap_ came at the door.   
   "Go away," she replied, wiping her eyes free of the most recent teardrops.   
   The door creaked open, and foot steps followed, but not many. Only enough to get inside room and shut the door.  
   "I don't want to talk to you," Beth said, more tears rolling from her eyes.   
   Daryl didn't say anything. He didn't know what to do, so he just stood there. His weight was on the door, his arms crossed. Beth knew he was there, and the longer he didn't say anything the more mad she got to the point of having to say something herself.  
   "What do you want?" She asked, sitting up and casting him a glare. But when she looked at him, her eyes caught site of the tremendous amount of blood on his exposed skin. She couldn't stay angry with him when she was worried that he had gotten cut or even bitten. Beth swung her legs over the edge of the bed, and limped over to him, touching his arm gently.  
   "Are you hurt?" He didn't pull away from her touch, he just dropped his gaze.   
   "I'm fine," Daryl said, as Beth made sure there were no cuts or gashes he wasn't telling her about. "What are you doing?"  
   Beth took him by the hand, moved him away from the door and escorted him to the small bathroom across the hall.   
   "I told you, I'm fine."  
   "Well, I want to make sure," said Beth, taking a white washcloth from under the sink. With a little bit of water and soap, the cloth went from white to red in one swipe. All the while, Daryl looked at her with concerned eyes. When she met his gaze, she stopped.   
   "What's wrong?"  
   It took him a long moment before he answered her. "What I said to you earlier..."  
   "Uh-uh, I don't want to talk about that."  
   "Why?"  
   "Because, Daryl, I just don't."   
   The room was quiet after that. Once Beth was reassured that Daryl hadn't been bit, she sat on the edge of the counter; her eyes on the floor.   
   "I'm sorry," she said.  
   "For what?" asked Daryl, looking over at her.   
   "For getting in your way. I keep thinkin' that I can do all the stuff you can, but I can't."  
   "You can, just not right now. You can take care of yourself, Beth. You're no less a fighter than anyone else."  
   She lifted her gaze to meet his. The corner of his lips rose, for a moment.   
   "Come on, let's get out of here," said Daryl as he picked her up once more and laid her back down on the bed. "I'm gonna get rid of the bodies."  
   "Right now? I just cleaned you up!" Beth's expression was that of shock and disapproval.   
   "Well, that's your own fault." He smirked and left the room.    
   She laid their for a while, hearing the shuffling of feet and the dragging of objects through the tall grasses outside her window. She knew that Daryl would have to be exhausted by now; after everything that had gone on today. Her boots her off, but her ankle was still throbbing, but she was tired of being alone. One more time, she got out of bed and went to the kitchen. Beth found herself gazing at the wildflowers in the jar. How could anything still manage to be so beautiful in a world as broken as this one was?   
   Taking from the cabinet a glass, Beth got Daryl some water and went out to find him. When he wasn't out front, she followed the path of the pressed down grass, and later found him at the house across the way. He had drug the bodies, all that way just to keep them out of site of their own house. This little gesture made her smile warmly. The distance was further than she wanted to walk, the way she was feeling, and should something happen, she knew she wouldn't be able to make it back to the house in time. Thankfully, Daryl saw her and was headed back.  
   "Here." Beth said, handing him the glass.   
   "What's this for?" He took the glass, somewhat reluctantly.   
   "It's just water, Daryl."  
   He took a sip from the glass, still looking at her.  
   "What?" She said, with a confused expression. "Is something wrong?"  
   "No." He finished off the glass, and handed it back to her. "Thank you."  
   "You're welcome. Are you almost finished?"  
   Daryl shook his head. "There are a few around back."  
   "Is there anything I can do to help?"  
   He was almost getting ready to chide her, but he bit his tongue. "Just stay by the door and keep an eye out for me."  
   Beth nodded and walked up the three stairs to the back door landing. As she watched Daryl drag the walker's bodies away, he heart sank. He never knew when to quit. With each one he moved, his pace slowed, and his breathing seemed to labor more. Her fingers gripped the wooden railing with nervousness. But just when she getting ready to tell him to stop, he changed his path and walked back to the house.   
   "Are you done?" Beth asked, her eyebrows knitted together.   
   "Mhm."   
   Without delay, she opens the kitchen door and they both retreat inside. She can tell he's exhausted and overheated. After getting him another glass of water, Beth retreated to the bathroom for a cold rag. Daryl scoffed at her when she placed it on the back of his neck.   
   "Would you stop doing that?! I'm just trying to help you!"   
   Daryl sat quietly for only a moment. "I don't need you to mother me, Beth."  
   "Well, better get used to it." She said, plopping herself down in the wooden chair across from him.  
   These two had a lot of kinks to work out, but relationships were always give and take. Walls would still need to be broken, and even though during these trying times, when defenses needed to be up at all times, emotional defenses would have to be overcome. It would be a long journey; one of self-acceptance and suppressed, childhood memories, but much good would come from it all.  
   All in due time.  

**Author's Note:**

> If this rambled on, I'm sorry.  
> I'm not "new" to this fandom, but this is my first TWD-fic.  
> I was just trying to give it a good start, hopefully it didn't bore you to death! D:  
> Now, I'm not sure what my posting habits will be; I guess it depends on the reception I get from this. c:


End file.
